


how to deal with a bored ghost

by venndaai



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/F, Ghost Sex, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: Atton shook his head. “What’s got you so distracted lately?”“Nothing,” the Exile said.





	how to deal with a bored ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/gifts).



“So,” Atton said, “I thought maybe we’d head to Yavin next, stock back up on ordinance.” He looked at the Exile, consideringly. “And then we could go to Kashyyk and throw away our clothes and live with the Wookies.”

The Exile blinked. “What?”

Atton shook his head. “What’s got you so distracted lately?”

“Nothing,” the Exile said. She sighed. “Just thinking.”

“Right.” Atton turned back to the helm. “Well, I’ll plot our new course… unless you have an objection?”

“Oh,” the Exile said, “no, no, that sounds… fine.”

She stood and walked quickly out of the cockpit, down through the main body of the Ebon Hawke and into the privacy of crew quarters, where she pressed the button that slid the door shut and collapsed against the wall.

“Pulling faces behind Atton’s back isn’t very dignified behavior for a Force ghost,” she said.

Kreia smiled. Like all her smiles, it was small and strange on her shadowed face, and like every time Kreia smiled, the Exile felt her heart pound. The smiles had been much more common lately. It was one reason the Exile sometimes wondered if she was losing it.

But in her heart she knew she wasn’t; that the shimmering blue figure was just as real as Atton or the droids, and needed closer watching than any of them.

“We are too idle,” Kreia said. “It erodes dignity.”

“Well,” the Exile said, “I can think of better things for you to do than make fun of poor Atton.”

She untied her belt, and leaned away from the wall enough to shrug out of her robe.

She raised her eyes briefly, long enough to see that the ghost’s smile had increased a fraction, and then dropped them down to the metal floor, focusing on the slide of fabric against skin as she unwound each layer, the feeling of freedom as the cloth dropped to the floor. Then the feeling of skin against skin, hands on her arms. She couldn’t see the fingers pressing into her skin but she could see the white marks they made. The air buzzed. The Exile tilted her head back until it rested against the bulkhead, closing her eyes. Exhaled, a harsh sound. Grinned.

The hands pushed her back into the wall with sudden force. And there were hands on her thighs now, too. Squeezing, and then lifting her up, inhumanly strong. She wasn’t pushed hard enough to scrape against the metal wall, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to feel the pressure, the force. She opened her eyes. Kreia was standing in front of her, almost touching her but not quite. She was slightly blue, slightly shimmering, slightly not real. Her concentrated presence in the Force made the Exile’s teeth tingle. Her arms, draped in her usual robe, were folded across her chest, her one hand tucked into an elbow. The incorporeal hands squeezed the Exile tighter.

“Please,” the Exile said, completely shamelessly.

Kreia leaned forward. The Exile was looking down at her cloaked head. Ghostly breath, cold and full of static, brushed across the Exile’s stomach, her crotch. The Exile shivered, muscles clenching.

 _Relax,_ Kreia said, inside her head. Dry lips pressed against her inner thigh.

 _Please,_ the Exile begged again.

Kreia indulged her.


End file.
